Half an hour later, when their morning tasks were finished, Virg hailed her brother, who was on his way to the valley pasture to see what damage had been done to the mile square fence. “Buddy,” she called, “is it safe for Margaret and me to ride to the Junction for the mail? There must be just stacks of it there waiting for us?”
The lad scanned the horizon and replied in the affirmative.
The two ponies, Star and Comrade had been in the corral so long that they were high spirited and galloped across the hard, desert trail as though racing with each other.
Having reached the rocky creek bottom, where only a little water was trickling along, Virginia turned her pony toward the opposite bank where she expected to find the trail which they had always ascended but it had been washed away leaving a steep perpendicular cliff, up which they could not ride.
“What shall we do?” Margaret asked. “Is there no other way to reach the Junction?”
“Yes, there is another trail farther up the creek, but, to reach it we will have to ride between these high banks for about a mile. At this time of the year it is rather a risky thing to do, for if there should be a cloudburst in the mountains, we would find ourselves in a raging torrent, but since brother assured us that it is not going to rain, suppose we take the chance.”
Margaret agreed and silently they rode along the creek bottom. On either side of them the banks rose sheer and high. Virginia felt strangely troubled. She almost wished they had not taken the chance. They were within sight of the low banks, when Virginia suddenly drew rein and listened intently. Somewhere, up in the mountains ahead of them, she heard a sullen, roaring noise. What could it be? There was no wind and the sky was clear. Intuitively, however, the western girl knew that something was wrong.
“Megsy,” she called, “ride as fast as you can.” The creek bottom was covered with stones of all sizes and the eastern girl, frightened by Virginia’s command, urged her horse to greater speed. The dull roaring in the mountains grew louder and louder. Then, there was a report like a crash of thunder.
Virginia was only two lengths from the low bank when a rush of water hurled past them. It had risen to the stirrups when Comrade with a frightened snort, started to climb the low bank. Virginia looked back, and to her dismay she saw that Star had reared and that Margaret was about to be thrown into the swirling ever-deepening torrent. Seizing Margaret’s bridle, she called: “Let go of the rein, Megsy, and cling to Star’s neck. It’s your only chance.”
She again scrambled up the low bank with Star in tow and not a minute too soon, for following the last booming noise in the mountains, a mad rushing torrent was hurled down the creek, overflowing the low bank.